


Masks

by lyrawinter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-11
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-22 03:38:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16590143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyrawinter/pseuds/lyrawinter
Summary: A Petyr/Sansa onsehot inspired by seasons 1-4.





	Masks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [petyrbaealish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/petyrbaealish/gifts).



> Dedicated to my beta and friend petyrbaealish :-)
> 
> This is a Petyr/Sansa oneshot inspired by seasons 1-4. Some lines of dialogue are taken from the show.
> 
> I hope you like it! :-)

I

The first time Petyr saw Sansa Stark he felt so captivated by her beauty that his mind went black.

She couldn't have been older than thirteen. Thick auburn hair, straight-edged nose, high cheekbones, and blue eyes. She was prettier than her mother, something that seemed almost impossible, and her face had a shine of innocence that Petyr had never seen in Catelyn's, not even when they both were children and their souls felt lighter.

His childhood love had always proved herself to be a grounded person. Very rational, very prudent. Sadly, it took him too long to understand that she would never do something reckless, that she would never break the rules. He needed to suffer her rejection and be cut by a sharp sword to learn that life was not a song.

The emotional and physical pain was almost unbearable. He had spent many days lying in a bed, immersed in a dream full of confusing and terrifying images. The maester said that his loss of consciousness was normal. Petyr had severe injuries and it was a miracle he was still alive.

It was even more amazing when he recovered.

Once he was capable of walking again, he left Riverrun without looking back. Catelyn married Eddard Stark and started a family. Littlefinger learnt to manipulate people and got rich. Petyr became a shadow.

He had been a fool to believe that the world was a fair place. Only the strongest could survive. Westeros didn't treat its creatures well and Kings Landing was a good example of that. It could seem a refined place but in truth it was inhospitable. There were only three sorts of people: the players, the pieces and the dead. Pieces were often quick to die. Even some players could disappear from the board game. There were no guarantees. For anyone.

Petyr smirked at Sansa. She reminded him of a fairy princess dressed in cream, with flower hairpins in her braid and an embroidered handkerchief in her delicate hands. So sweet. So naïve.

It was The Hand's Tourney day and the sun shone brightly. The summer was lasting longer than expected. The light gave the world a kinder appearance.

"It looks like a very promising morning," Lord Baelish thought, before sitting next to Sansa.

A lot could happen between now and never.

 

II

Winterfell had been her home, her refuge, her childhood paradise.

Many people considered the capital of the North an inhospitable place and they all were quite right. Snow and mist almost always covered it. The cold chapped your skin, got into your bones and made you shiver. An icy wind blew often, stirring branches, clothes and hair. Every time it whistled through the windows of the castle, it sounded like a lost soul. However, most of the time, the silence reigned. Time seemed to have stopped a long time ago, as it did in the mythical territories.

Sansa had always loved her birthplace. Neither snow nor cold bothered her, but she had never been exposed to inclement weather, never had to cut firewood, clear paths, or feed animals during a storm. Nor during a clear day.

Her parents had made great efforts to hide the hardest aspects of life from her.

Before moving to King's Landing, she felt grateful for the way she had been raised. She had grown up listening to songs about true love, gentle knights, and beautiful places. There wasn't anything ugly in those tales, no sign of cruelty. In Winterfell, nobody bothered to tell her that real life was entirely different, that there were blood, cruelty and pain. Before moving to King's Landing, she thought she would protagonize one of those fantasies.

The Court had taken charge of removing the blindfold from her eyes in the most brutal ways.

The latest events in the Capital had shattered her existence. Joffrey wasn't the gentle prince she had believed. He seemed a monster from her worst nightmares, a stonehearted boy, unmerciful and capricious. He hadn't hesitated to condemn her father, Ned Stark, to death.

Now he had just broken their marriage proposal. He didn't want to be the spouse of a traitor's daughter. He would marry an honorable woman, not a despicable one. Sansa had to pretend that she felt disappointed and sad, but deep down, she wanted to laugh and dance.

She only dared to smile when she left the Throne Room.

“My lady!” The voice made her stop. She had recognized it. Her smile disappeared from her face. She turned around slowly and waited for him to reach her.

Lord Baelish walked with elegance. When he was in front of her, he inclined his head and said: “I want to express to you my sincerest condolences, my lady.”

“Thank you, my lord, but they were right. I am not good enough for him. I suppose that now I will have to go back to Winterfell.”

A sorrowful expression appeared on Petyr's face. “I am afraid that Joffrey is not the sort of boy who gives away his toys. He enjoys beating you and now that you are a woman, he'll be able to enjoy you in other ways as well. I am aware it is very difficult for you to see the darkest side of people. You have a tender heart, just like your mother did at your age. She was like a sister to me, did you know that? We still have a strong bond although life has tried to keep us away from each other. For her sake, I will help get you home.”

That was what Sansa desired the most, but The Court had taught her to be wary. She spoke, trying to give her voice the confidence she didn't feel. “King's Landing is my home now.”

Petyr put his right hand on her left shoulder and whispered: “Look around you, we're all liars here. And every one of us is better than you.”

 

III

In King's Landing, there seemed to be eyes and ears everywhere. If a person was alone in a room or a corridor, they always had the feeling of being watched. Something, maybe a sixth sense, alerted them that there were people hidden, looking for flaws and secrets. Trying to catch the mistakes that could make them fall.

Information was power, and the players in the Game of Thrones just had to wait the perfect moment to use it as a weapon.

Since her conversation with Lord Baelish, Sansa felt a tightness in her chest that never disappeared, despite her efforts to breathe slowly and avoid negative thoughts.

She had been a fool to believe that she could leave The Court and go back to her home. Joffrey would never let her do so. Besides, many things had changed in those last months. Winterfell was now a shadow of its former self. Without the Starks ruling the territory, the castle and the surrounding area must have a bleak and neglected appearance, like if they had been cursed by a maegi. In truth, she didn’t know if the maegi had the power to do that kind of thing, but she didn’t want to find out either. Everything related to black magic terrified her.

She felt trapped in King's Landing. The sensation of oppression remained even outdoors. Walking along the gardens or admiring the landscape from the port didn’t help her feel better.

Lord Baelish had told her that he was going to make a plan in order to take her home, but some weeks had passed and there didn't seem to be any progress. Sansa knew she should be patient. It was a delicate situation. He couldn’t rush things. However, patience was difficult when you lived in a dangerous place and time ran against you.

They had barely talked since the day Joffrey broke their engagement. Every time they met in the same room, Sansa tried to make visual contact with him, in hopes of receiving a sign that he hadn’t forgotten his promise. However, Lord Baelish’s expression was always inscrutable, and he never held her gaze for long.

It was frustrating.

One day, however, that situation changed. While she was sitting alone on a stone bench, looking at the horizon, she saw from the corner of her eye Lord Baelish approaching her. He had a very characteristic manner of walking. He never made a noise and never seemed to be in a hurry. He moved like a shadow. Silently. Barely noticeable. Sansa admired his ability to keep a low profile. When she turned her head to look at him, he smiled softly from the distance in what looked liked a sincere gesture. Or at least, Sansa couldn’t detect any touch of irony or malice in it. A few seconds after, he stopped in front of her and bowed.  
“My lady, it is always a pleasure to see you, but today I am especially glad to find you here. I have good news.”

Sansa's heart raced, and the image of Winterfell filled her mind. She could almost feel the chill and the breeze, and the touch of the snow. If she closed her eyes, she was sure she would perceive the smells of the forest and the oils that the servants used to maintain the furniture of the castle. Wild orange, lemon and olive.

Sansa was so lost in her thoughts that it took her a few seconds to realize that Lord Baelish had asked for permission to sit down next to her. The question had sounded as if it had come from far away. She blinked and made an effort to look at him again.

“Of course, my lord,” she said, still thinking of her home.

Lord Baelish gave her a comforting smile and took a seat. Sansa smiled as well and joined her hands, expectantly. She needed to hear nice things. She needed to banish her fears and worries.

“My lady, you look especially radiant this morning,” Lord Baelish said in a pleasant way. If there was lust in his voice, Sansa didn’t notice it. His gaze stopped at her crown as he continued: “The sun reflects on your hair and make its red more intense, fiercer. The Tully hair is always beautiful, but yours is exceptional. It seems an illusion, a piece made of fire and gold.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Sansa couldn’t help but blush. She didn’t remember the last time someone had been really kind to her. Although Shae was polite, she always spoke with a mildly sharp tone. Sansa was grateful for her help and company, but she couldn’t feel completely at ease with her.

“I am sorry for these last weeks of uncertainty, but it was too risky to approach you.” Lord Baelish gave her a smile of apology before continuing: “You were always surrounded by people and the news about the new marriage has caused a great stir in the castle. Fortunately, now it seems that things have gone back to normal.”

Sansa shuddered at the thought of the wedding. Joffrey has been more irritated than usual. Anything could give him a sudden attack of rage. Sansa was trying to avoid him as much as possible. She didn’t envy Margaery. Any woman who was going to marry the prince deserved compassion.

“Don’t worry, Lord Baelish. I understand.”

He inclined his head toward her and said: “Please, call me Petyr. Now we are in the same boat, my lady.”

 

IV

Sansa shrank into herself and shivered. The night was cold, and the humidity, caused by a thick fog, had soaked her cloak, her face, and her hair. The small boat was bobbing on the sea as it moved forward, a relaxing movement that was sending her to sleep. Maester Pycelle had announced two weeks before that there would be a full moon that day. That phase encouraged female fertility and for this reason it was the perfect date to celebrate a wedding.

Everything had gone well until the banquet. The vows had been made. Margaery and Joffrey’s souls had been bound as one and they had promised to be devoted to one another. Several petals of wild flowers had been thrown: daisies, poppies, dandelions, and roses. A few petals had fallen on the newlyweds but they had been quick to take them off. Now all of the petals covered the floor, like a rainbow mantle. Joffrey had enjoyed walking on them on his way to the table. He loved seeing the beautiful things fading. It made him experience a sense of well-being, and it was even better when he was the cause of the damage.  
The menu had consisted mainly of game meat: deer, wild pigs, pheasants, hares, and partridges. Every one of them filled with nuts, raisins, chicken, lard, and spices. Sansa remembered the strong smell that had floated in the air. Her stomach had contracted and she’d had to hold a gag reflex. She was used to eating very little but at the moment she couldn’t even take one bite of food. Luckily, everybody had kept their eyes on the newlyweds so Sansa had just picked at her food.

She also remembered the smell of the wine. A special vintage had been selected for the wedding, one made of acidic grapes. She hadn’t tasted that beverage, but she had smelled the breath of many guests, sour and revolting. Soon, almost all of them were drunk. However, all of them had noticed when The King started convulsing.

It had been a terrible sight. Joffrey with his hand in his throat and making distressing sounds, as if he was drowning. He had stood up with difficulty, his face turning purple.

His death only lasted a few minutes, but they felt like hours. Although Sansa had known it was going to happen, because it was part of the plan, she had been paralyzed by shock for some seconds. _What are you doing? Run!_ A voice in her mind had taken her back to reality. She had looked around. The chaos had spread like a contagious illness. The screams and the movement had almost made her feel dizzy. After checking that nobody was looking at her, she had started walking away cautiously, without turning.

A few meters further, her back had hit the bark of a tree. Sansa had taken a deep breath.

It was time to run.

***

When the boat stopped, Sansa opened her eyes. Sir Dontos gave her a smile and moved his head to the right.

“We have just arrived. The ship is waiting for you, my lady.”

Sansa looked in that direction and saw, despite the fog, the bottom of the ship that Lord Baelish have gotten. _Petyr_ , she corrected herself.

The climb was not easy. Sansa was tired and stunned due to all the emotions of the day and her muscles felt numb from the cold. She was moving in a state of slumber, not conscious of her movements.

However, all her senses were put on alert when, after reaching the top, two hands grabbed her arms.

 

V

“Lord Baelish!” Sansa exclaimed, her heart racing. The man’s face was just a few centimeters from hers. Despite the fog, she could see that his eyes were scanning her, avid.

“Petyr, my lady,” he reminded her in a soft voice. His breath smelt of mint. “Are you hurt?”

She was still in shock, so she could only shake her head.

“Good.” The man smiled in relief and put his left hand on her back. “Come with me. I’ll escort you to your cabin, my lady. I know it has been a rough day for you but luckily the worst is over. You have proven to be very brave, my lady. Many grown men couldn’t have done half as well as you did.”

“Than… Thank you,” Sansa said faintly. Her legs felt so heavy, as if she had stones tied to her thighs.

“Now you can relax. Nobody will harm you here, I promise.”

“Lord Baelish!” A voice made them stop.

Petyr sighed, annoyed, and turned his face.

“Yes?”

“Where is my reward?” The voice came from the sea. It was Sir Dontos. The man had been conscious that Sansa was suffering in King’s Landing but he had only agreed to take her away when Petyr promised him a bag of gold.

“You will have to come up, sir,” Lord Baelish replied kindly. “There is a thick fog. My men cannot risk throwing the bag without seeing where it falls. It would be a pity if the money sank.”

“Alright, Lord Baelish.” Sir Dontos didn’t seem to question his words. “I’ll be up in a few minutes.”

“There’s no need to rush, sir. The steps can be tricky, especially on a day like this. Take your time. The bag won’t vanish into thin air.” After saying that, Lord Baelish looked at Sansa and gave her a comforting smile.

“Come on, my lady. It is time you get some rest. Trust me, things will get better from tomorrow on. I will protect you. You have my word.”

They were in Sansa’s cabin when Sir Dontos finally reached the top. The man grabbed his bag with greedy eyes, but he couldn’t go back to the boat. He wasn’t even able to turn to the ladder.

Before he could react, a silver dagger pierced his heart.

 

VI

Sansa slept deeply. The sea kept calm during the rest of the night and the soft movements of the ship didn’t bother her. When she woke up the next morning, she didn’t remember if she had had any dreams.

After cleaning herself up and putting on a plain grey dress, she approached the window and gazed at the horizon. Although she knew that Winterfell wasn’t the same place she had left, she couldn’t wait to be there again. No matter how many years passed or how much she changed, Winterfell would be always her home.

She was still admiring the landscape when she heard steps going down the stairs in her direction.

Soon after, Lord Baelish entered her cabin. He smiled at her.

“Good morning, my lady. I trust you have slept well.”

“Yes, thank you, my lord.”

He started walking toward her.

“May I call you Sansa when we are alone? I find that such formalities could be an obstacle to feel at ease with each other.”

She hesitated, but finally nodded.

“Thank you.” The man reached her and looked at the window. “Ah, we are finally close to The Vale of Arryn. I confess to you that I cannot wait to set foot on land. Being surrounded by water can be a bit distressing, don’t you think that?”

“The Vale of Arryn?” A confused expression appeared on Sansa’s face. “I thought we were heading to Winterfell.”

Petyr sighed and took his eyes off her.

“Apologies, my lady. I am afraid that I lied to you.” The words came out of his mouth with difficulty, as if it had taken him so much effort to pronounce each of them. “I had to but I don’t feel proud of it, you must believe me.” He sighed again and added, averting his gaze:

“No, we are not heading to Winterfell. Instead, we are going to spend some time in The Vale.”

This confession made Sansa’s heart race. She took a step back and looked at him warily.

“Why?” Until that moment, the cabin hadn’t seemed to her so small, so suffocating. “You said you would take me home.”

Petyr finally looked at her. His expression was pained.

“I am afraid that Winterfell is not a safe place for you at this moment and it will take some time until this situation changes. The Vale is your aunt’s home, Sansa. Do you remember Lysa? I am going to marry her very soon. She knows about the plan and has promised to keep the secret. She won’t tell anyone your location either. I am aware that this is not what you had in mind, but it is the best option given the circumstances. You will be safe there.” He smiled sadly and raised his hand to caress her left arm, his eyes full of care. “At least until we can find a better place to stay.”

 

VII

The road until the castle of The Eyre was narrow and rocky. It had been excavated in the ground before the castle was built. If you looked to your right or your left, you could see roots in the walls from trees that no longer existed. At the top, some meters before reaching the fortress, there were two rows of guards with crossbows. Their duty was to control who got close to the castle. In case any visitor seemed a potential enemy, they had been ordered to eliminate them.

Killing first, asking after. This was a rule in the Vale.

Sansa felt a shiver as she walked. Although she had put on her hood after getting off the ship, she could not help but think that everyone could recognize her. Petyr had told her that she should keep covering her hair until she had it dyed. Nobody, except for Lysa, must know her identity.

Sansa stole a glance at her savior and was surprised at his calm. Petyr didn’t seem worried about the crossbows. She swallowed hard and looked at the ground again. The unevenness on the field made it difficult to move forward along the path. She walked holding up her dress with both hands, so the bottom was at the height of her knees.

Sansa didn’t remember her aunt. She was a child the last time she saw her, but she hoped Lysa would kind to her. The word “family” had always had positive connotations to Sansa.

Petyr was the first to stop and Sansa imitated him a few seconds later. Right afterwards, one of the guards asked in a demanding tone:

“Who goes there?”

Petyr raised his eyes and said:

“Lord Baelish, the Head of House Baelish, Master of Coin in King’s Landing and Lady Lysa’s groom. I have come with my niece, Alayne Stone.”

“We were expecting you, Lord Baelish,” the same guard said, and made the order to lower the castle gate.

Petyr bowed his head in a gentle way and waited for the gate to lower completely. Sansa swallowed again and try to relax. She shouldn’t feel nervous. She was going to spend some time with one of her relatives until she could reunite with her siblings. There was nothing terrible about that. She could use these weeks to reflect on the past events and to learn more things about the Tullys. Who knew, maybe after her stay she will have strengthened her bonds with her ancestry. This could be a positive experience.

After all, a family member would never hurt her, would they?

 

VIII

Lysa Arryn wasn’t the sweet aunt Sansa had expected. The woman was waiting for them in the High Hall of The Eyrie, a large room with a big hole in the floor. As soon as she saw Lord Baelish entering, she gave a cry of delight and ran towards him.

“Petyr! Oh, Petyr! You don’t know how much I’ve suffered in your absence!” she exclaimed, throwing herself into his arms.

Lord Baelish was about to fall backwards but he managed to recover his equilibrium in time. Then, he chuckled and put a hand on her neck. Sansa, who was to his left, saw him smile but she realized that his eyes had a cold expression. No, she corrected herself, it was more than that: there was a darkness in his gaze, something disturbing, predatory. It was like staring into the abyss, like being surrounded by threatening shadows and howls from The Afterlife. Sansa took her eyes off him and looked at the ground.

“My dear, Lysa,” Lord Baelish said with a soft voice. “I have missed you too.”

Sansa heard her aunt giggling nervously and that made her feel even more uncomfortable. They acted as if she wasn’t there.

It seemed that Petyr had just read her mind because he moved away from Lysa and said:

“Honey, this is your niece. I have no doubt that you remember perfectly our last conversation by letter.”

“Yes.” Lysa gave Sansa an annoyed look and added, as if it took her too much effort to pronounce each word, “You are Alayne. Alayne Stone.”

Petyr let her tone of contempt pass and smiled again. “Such a clever woman.”

Lysa’s face softened instantly and she lifted her chin up. In those moments, she seemed as proud as a peacock. “Your clever woman,” she corrected him, her eyes starting to tear.

“Yes, my clever woman.” Petyr caressed her left shoulder for a few seconds and then, he asked: “Where is Robin? I have brought him a present.”

“Oh, my poor child suffered a nervous attack early this morning. The maester had to give him a dosage of Sweetsleep. My dear boy is looking forward to seeing you. He is…”

Her words were interrupted by an enthusiastic scream and rushed steps coming from the corridor. Sansa’s heart jumped out of her chest but Lysa and Petyr seemed accustomed to those kinds of sounds because they didn’t flinch. Her aunt gave a clap and exclaimed: “Oh, my sweet Robin is finally awake!”

***  
Robin Arryn entered the High Hall making a noise like a bumblebee and jumped into Petyr’s arms. The man lifted him into the air without effort, and they turned around three times. After that, Petyr put the kid on the floor again and he took a bird made of glass from his pocket.

“This is for you, Robin. I know that you love things that can fly.”

The boy grabbed the toy and ran towards the big hole in the center of the room. “I am gonna make this bird fly! I want it to go out The Moon Door!”

Until that moment, Sansa didn’t know there was a name for that thing. It was too poetic. “The Moon Door” would fit better the image of a round aperture in the wall of a beautiful house, painted in pastels colors, with an apple pie cooling in the window, and a garden of flowers in front.

“Fly! Fly!” Robin screamed after throwing the bird in the hole. The toy hovered for a few seconds due to the air pressure but afterward, it came down between the rocks, very quickly.  
“Do you like our door, Alayne?” her aunt asked her in a cheerful tone. Sansa met her gaze and could not help but shudder. Lysa’s eyes had a hue of madness now. “I guess you do, sweetie. It is a very useful resource when you want your enemies to disappear.”

 

IX

Sansa couldn’t see Petyr again until that night. She was with Robin all the time. The boy took her to his bedroom and was showing her his toys until a guard appeared and said they must go down to dinner.  
As they approached the Great Hall, they both started to hear the music of a harp. The melody was slow and melancholic. Sansa felt her throat clench and asked herself why someone would want to hear sad songs on a happy day. It was a good night for Lysa. She finally had Petyr by her side.

The Great Hall was a large room illuminated by candles. There were two tapestries, one in front of another. The first one represented an eagle flying through the skies and the second one, a fish floating several meters above the sea. The colors in both were intense and bright. Sansa knew that some dyes were very expensive because they were obtained from precious gems like rubies or emeralds.

She didn’t look at the tapestries for too long. Right away, she turned her gaze to Lysa and Petyr. They were sat at a table that almost went from wall to wall. The woman smiled and exclaimed, very excited:

“Oh, you are finally here! That is your table, sweeties.” She pointed at a small round table in a corner. Sansa had barely taken notice of it because it was in the darkest side of the room. She looked at her aunt, confused, so the woman added: “Robin told me this morning that he wanted to spend as much time as possible with you. He is very thrilled about your presence here. He is the sweetest boy in the world. How I could refuse?” Lysa looked at her son with tenderness before continuing: “And today I want Petyr all to myself. He has just arrived, and we have been separated from each other for an eternity. I guess you know what I mean, honey.”

Sansa blushed and averted her eyes. “Yes… Yes, of course.”

Robin seemed very glad about his mother’s decision. He hurried to take Sansa’s hand and guided her to the table. As she walked, Sansa looked at Petyr from the corner of her eye and saw that there was an unpleasant expression on his face.

He wasn’t happy.

 

X

Sansa didn’t know that her bedroom was next to Lysa’s until she heard the moans. Heat invaded her cheeks and she felt embarrassed.

No, it couldn’t be possible. Why would her aunt want to give her the nearest room to hers? Why? Lysa must know there were chances that she heard every sound coming from her bedchamber.

Sansa frowned. What if she had done it on purpose? What if she wanted Sansa to know what was happening just a few meters beyond? What if that idea was enjoyable for her?

No, Lysa couldn’t be so wicked.

 

XI

The next day, Sansa felt so tired that she needed all her willpower to get up. She took her breakfast alone. The servants told her that Robin had had another attack, this time stronger than the day before, so the maester had to bleed him. Now he was sleeping in his bed. Lysa and Petyr had left earlier so they didn’t know about the incident.

“Where have they gone?” Sansa asked.

One of the maids answered: “They are taking a walk by horse, my lady. They said they would arrive at lunch time.”

Sansa couldn’t hide the despair on her face. At these moments, Petyr was the only person she felt comfortable with, and his absence made her nervous. She ate without appetite and then went back to her bedchamber.

Time seemed to slow down. The next hours felt like centuries. Sansa walked around her bedroom until she got too tired to do that, and then she lay down on her bed. Closing her eyes, she thought of Winterfell and her family, and let her tears run down her face.

 

XII

The maid was right. Petyr and Lysa arrived some minutes before the food was served. Since Robin continued sleeping in his bedroom, this time the woman let Sansa join them at the large table, but she monopolized the conversation and pretended that her niece wasn’t there. Petyr and Sansa couldn’t exchange any words. She didn’t even dare to look at his eyes, fearing that Lysa would be mad at her.

After lunch, Sansa went back to her bedchamber, sad and frustrated. She was admiring the horizon through the window when she heard knocks on her door.

“Sweetling, it’s me.”

A feeling of joy invaded her heart when she recognized the voice. She hurried to reach the door and opened it. On the other side, Petyr smiled her.

“Lysa has gone to visit Robin. She wants to read him a tale, so we have some time to talk.”

Sansa smiled too. “That’s fantastic.”

“I am glad you think so.” Petyr’s face was much more relaxed than in the Great Hall. He gestured towards the corridor and added: “We’d better go outside and take a walk. We could get into trouble if someone catches us here.”

Sansa blushed, knowing what he meant, and nodded. They headed to the courtyard in silence. They didn’t see anyone during their route: no servants, no guards. A calm had settled in the castle. In those moments, it could easily pass as a convent. They could only hear their footsteps on the stone floor. When they finally arrived at the courtyard, Petyr looked around before speaking:

“I am so sorry for not having spent time with you since our arrival, but Lysa is very possessive and is obsessed with me. She is jealous of every woman that approaches me, especially the young and beautiful ones.”

Sansa gazed at him, confused. “Then, why are you going to marry her? You… you seemed very uncomfortable last night.”

Petyr sighed before answering: “Power and wealth are essential in our world and we must make sacrifices to obtain both.”

“But you are speaking as if you hate my aunt.”

“I hate her,” Petyr confessed in a low and somber voice. “She forced herself on me when I was young. She took advantage when I was defenseless. I don’t know if you have heard about the sword duel between your uncle Brandon and me.”

Sansa turned her face to his, horrified. A shiver ran down her spine. “No, I haven’t. What happened?”

Petyr sighed again and moved his right arm towards the well, placed in the center of the courtyard. “Let’s go there.”

Sansa didn’t object. They left behind the gallery and walked along a path made of black pebbles. Vines and moss covered the well’s parapet. When they reached this, Petyr set his hands on the surface of the parapet and looked down. It was impossible to see the water. There only seemed to be darkness.

“I loved Catelyn with all my soul. She was everything to me and when I found out that she was going to marry Brandon, I challenged him to a duel. I know it was very reckless of me, but I was just a young boy, and I still believed in songs and tales. I was very foolish, and my audacity almost costed me my life. My audacity and my ingenuity also made me ask your mother to be my wife. She rejected me, and I don’t blame her for that. She wasn’t in love with me and besides, she couldn’t make a decision like that on her own. I should have reacted in a more mature way, but I felt very depressed and drank alcohol until I almost lost my consciousness. Lysa took advantage of that.”

Sansa felt as if a claw had ripped up her stomach.

“I am so sorry,” she said, touching his left arm, her body shaking.

He raised his head and gave her a sad smile.

“Don’t worry, sweetling. It happened a long time ago. The injuries scarred. I am another person. Of course, I still feel a great affection for your mother, but the romantic love disappeared after that. The duel and the abuse changed me. There is very little left of the daydreamer boy I used to be.”

Sansa trembled while thinking of Lysa. How could someone do such an abhorrent thing to another human being? How?

“I am so sorry,” she repeated, feeling her eyes fill with tears.

“Oh, sweetling.” Petyr removed his hands from the parapet and took her face with both. “You have the most beautiful soul. I wish the world was ruled by people like you. Please, stop crying. I cannot bear to see you sad.”

“I wish I could erase what happened to you,” she whispered.

He shook his head.

“The past is gone for good. We can sit here mourning its departure or we can prepare for the future. What do you choose?”

She took a deep breath and asked him in a murmur: “Please, don’t marry Lysa. Please, don’t condemn yourself to that terribly destiny.”

“Sansa…” His eyes were full of tenderness, sadness, and desire.

“Please, Petyr, please,” she sobbed.

He caressed her cheeks with his thumbs and bowed his face. When his lips touched hers slightly, Sansa held her breath and stayed still.

“What do you want, sweetling?” he murmured.

Sansa closed her eyes, lost in a mix of sensations. Petyr’s presence was intoxicating. His touch, his voice, the smell of mint. She didn’t dare to move a muscle, fearing waking up from a dream. If this was an illusion, she didn’t want it to disappear.

“What do you want?” he repeated, moving his hands to her nape.

The contact sent a shiver down her spine. She sighed and grabbed his cloak. She wanted to walk away from all the dangers and conspiracies, from all the violence and sorrow. But she also wanted him, she wanted to start from zero with him. A new place, a new life.

Sansa gathered her courage, closed the distance, and kissed him.

 

Epilogue

“She is like her mother, she’ll never love you!” Lysa’s screams sounded desperate.

“Lysa, please, get out of here,” Petyr begged. “You are not thinking properly, honey. You are the only woman I love. I am only kind to her because she is your niece. Please, dear, let her go.”

“Do you promise me that you will never leave me? That you will finally marry me and send her far away this very day?”

“I promise, honey. I promise. You can set the day of the wedding.”

“Tomorrow. Promise me, Petyr.”

“I promise. Tomorrow we will be husband and wife.”

Lysa’s eyes looked at him with adoration. Her hands stopped grabbing Sansa by her hair. Sansa moved away from her, crawling and sobbing.

Petyr approached Lysa slowly.

“My dear Lysa. You have nothing to fear. I have every intention of keeping my promise. I won’t leave you while we remain in this world. Only death can separate us from each other.”

“Petyr, say that you love me.” Lysa smiled with a dreamy expression.

“I am sorry.” Those were the only words that Petyr pronounced. Then, he pushed the woman through the Moon Door.

Sansa saw how her aunt disappeared from the aperture without drama, just like a shadow sliding down. Petyr didn’t move for some seconds. His expression was grave. He kneeled in front of Sansa and caressed her hair.

“The worst is done. Now we must escape. There is nothing here for us. If someone find us here, they could accuse us of murder. I didn’t get to marry Lysa so I have no rights over the Vale. I'm afraid we will leave with our hands empty, sweetling.”

Sansa smiled weakly. She was still trembling, but her mind had started to work again. She touched Petyr’s face and whispered: “I am glad you didn’t marry her. I am glad nothing ties you here. We will be alright.”

Petyr smiled as well and said, before kissing her: “I know, my love.”


End file.
